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Singing
 
LOUD
 
at
 
Mater
 
Dei
‐
24
 
May
 
2009
 
Sunday
 
morning:
 
I
 
place
 
my
 
left
 
leg
 
into
 
my
 
old
 
grey
 
track
 
pants,
 
then
 
my
 
right
 
leg,
 
and
 
I
 
am
 
almost
 
dressed
 
for
 
breakfast,
 
which
 
happens
 
to
 
be
 
bacon
 
and
 
eggs
 
on
 
a
 
white
 
bun,
 
in
 
bed.
 
My
 
favourite
 
old
 
long
 
sleeved
 
shirt
 
is
 
leopard
 
spots,
 
and
 
always
 
looks
 
grrrrrrrr,
 
so
 
added
 
with
 
my
 
pink
 
and
 
grey
 
bed
 
socks,
 
I
 
look
 
quite
 
a
 
sight.
 
Afterwards,
 
it
 
occurs
 
to
 
me
 
that
 
I
 
should
 
go
 
to
 
church,
 
to
 
share
 
a
 
final
 
Blessing
 
with
 
my
 
friend
 
CJ,
 
who
 
will
 
be
 
travelling
 
overseas
 
to
 
Paris
 
no
 
less,
 
this
 
week.
 
It’s
 
a
 
quick
 
shower
 
and
 
a
 
change
 
of 
 
clothes,
 
and
 
I
 
am
 
on
 
my
 
way.
 
Dad’s
 
voice
 
plays
 
in
 
loops
 
as
 
I
 
drive:
 
“
God 
 
doesn’t 
 
mind 
 
what 
 
you
 
wear 
 
to
 
church,
 
as
 
long
 
as
 
you
 
go,
 
it 
 
is
 
enough
”
 
but
 
I
 
think
 
even
 
my
 
at
‐
home
 
attire
 
might
 
be
 
too
 
much
 
for
 
the
 
Big
 
Fella.
 
I
 
smile
 
and
 
sing
 
to
 
Russell
 
Morris:
 
Hush
 
hush,
 
thought 
 
I
 
heard 
 
her 
 
calling
 
my 
 
name
 
now 
 
Hush
 
hush,
 
Broke
 
my 
 
heart 
 
but 
 
I
 
love
 
her 
 
 just 
 
the
 
same
 
now…
 
…and
 
then
 
I
 
am
 
pulling
 
into
 
the
 
enclosed
 
car
 
park
 
in
 
the
 
grounds
 
of 
 
the
 
church.
 
I
 
am
 
almost
 
a
 
local,
 
this
 
is
 
my
 
third
 
visit!
 
Looking
 
around
 
I
 
can’t
 
see
 
CJ’s
 
car,
 
so
 
I
 
send
 
a
 
quick
 
dit:
 
see
 
you
 
in
 
church!
 
and
 
I
 
leave
 
my
 
mobile
 
in
 
the
 
car.
 
It
 
doesn’t
 
matter
 
if 
 
she
 
replies,
 
or
 
not.
 
The
 
priest
 
(he’s
 
new
 
to
 
the
 
parish)
 
stands
 
quietly
 
to
 
the
 
right
 
of 
 
the
 
open
 
doorways.
 
There
 
are
 
at
 
least
 
four
 
Greeters
 
beside
 
the
 
door,
 
but
 
none
 
say
 
a
 
word
 
to
 
me.
 
In
 
my
 
other
 
churches
 
they
 
leap
 
upon
 
me
 
like
 
drowning
 
men,
 
a
 
stranger
 
in
 
their
 
midst,
 
but
 
here
 
I
 
am
 
one
 
of 
 
the
 
mob.
 
The
 
priest,
 
too,
 
is
 
silent.
 
He
 
simply
 
observes
 
the
 
worshippers
 
and
 
families
 
as
 
they
 
arrive.
 
I
 
choose
 
a
 
seat
 
to
 
the
 
left,
 
where
 
I
 
have
 
sat
 
before;
 
I
 
am
 
a
 
creature
 
of 
 
habit
 
if 
 
nothing
 
else,
 
who
 
would
 
have
 
thought.
 
To
 
my
 
right
 
I
 
can
 
see
 
Robbo,
 
so
 
I
 
touch
 
his
 
sleeve
 
gently
 
and
 
say
 
good
 
morning.
 
He
 
 just
 
looks
 
at
 
me.
 
Perhaps
 
he
 
doesn’t
 
recognise
 
me
 
here
 
in
 
his
 
own
 
domain.
 
It’s
 
Patty 
,
 
I
 
say,
 
stupidly.
 
Yeah,
 
I
 
know 
,
 
and
 
he
 
reluctantly
 
pecks
 
me
 
on
 
the
 
cheek.
 
I
 
don’t
 
bother
 
to
 
ask
 
if 
 
his
 
wife
 
is
 
here.
 
Looking
 
around,
 
to
 
my
 
right,
 
to
 
the
 
door.
 
The
 
priest
 
stands
 
at
 
the
 
front,
 
arms
 
folded.
 
Various
 
families
 
with
 
young
 
children
 
walk
 
into
 
the
 
church;
 
he
 
is
 
still
 
silent,
 
and
 
they
 
barely
 
acknowledge
 
him
 
either.
 
Finally,
 
he
 
speaks:
 
good 
 
morning
.
 
A
 
startled
 
mother
 
holds
 
her
 
child’s
 
arm
 
 
and
 
scurries
 
inside.
 
I
 
feel
 
sorry
 
for
 
him;
 
it’s
 
lonely
 
at
 
the
 
top.
 
A
 
woman
 
deeply
 
genuflects
 
in
 
front
 
of 
 
my
 
pew.
 
She
 
is
 
the
 
only
 
one
 
I
 
have
 
noticed
 
to
 
do
 
so.
 
My
 
attention
 
is
 
now
 
caught
 
with
 
the
 
PowerPoint
 
presentation,
 
looping
 
over
 
and
 
over.
 
Please
 
bow 
 
before
 
receiving
 
Communion
 
it
 
pleads;
 
and
 
I
 
make
 
a
 
note
 
to
 
do
 
so.
 
There
 
is
 
a
 
photo
 
of 
 
an
 
old
 
couple
 
bowing
 
reverently
 
in
 
front
 
of 
 
the
 
priest.
 
Just
 
so
 
we
 
get
 
the
 
picture.
 
Finally,
 
the
 
Service
 
is
 
almost
 
underway,
 
and
 
I
 
spy
 
my
 
friend
 
CJ
 
 just
 
in
 
front,
 
to
 
the
 
right.
 
She’s
 
late.
 
Before
 
sitting
 
herself,
 
she
 
scans
 
the
 
pews,
 
I
 
wave,
 
we
 
smile.
 
Gesturing
 
for
 
me
 
to
 
sit
 
beside
 
her,
 
I
 
only
 
 just
 
make
 
it
 
before
 
the
 
Service
 
begins;
 
all
 
rising
 
to
 
sing,
 
the
 
words
 
projected
 
onto
 
the
 
PowerPoint
 
screen.
 
There
 
are
 
no
 
Hymn
 
books,
 
or
 
Prayer
 
books,
 
everything
 
is
 
on
 
this
 
screen.
 
My
 
neck
 
hurts
 
after
 
a
 
while,
 
awkwardly
 
craned
 
to
 
the
 
right.
 
I
 
thought 
 
I
 
should 
 
share
 
a
 
 final 
 
Blessing
 
with
 
you
 
before
 
you
 
go
,
 
I
 
hiss,
 
in
 
between
 
prayers.
 
This
 
morning
 
is
 
a
 
different
 
Service,
 
as
 
30
 
or
 
more
 
children
 
are
 
being
 
confirmed
 
into
 
the
 
church.
 
I
 
show
 
CJ
 
my
 
camera,
 
and
 
suggest
 
she
 
might
 
like
 
to
 
take
 
some
 
images,
 
as
 
everyone
 
knows
 
her
 
here,
 
and
 
it’s
 
not
 
my
 
place
 
to
 
do
 
so.
 
Delighted,
 
she
 
moves
 
to
 
the
 
side
 
and
 
begins
 
to
 
photograph
 
and
 
record
 
history.
 
We
 
are
 
so
 
good
 
together!
 
Good
 
teamwork,
 
and
 
then
 
the
 
priest
 
begins
 
to
 
crank
 
up
 
to
 
his
 
horse
 
race
 
call.
 
WearethebodyofChristforweallpartakeoftheoneBread 
 
he
 
drones,
 
like
 
Principal
 
Skinner.
 
I
 
nudge
 
CJ
 
and
 
we
 
smile
 
at
 
each
 
other.
 
Walking
 
up
 
to
 
receive
 
Communion,
 
I
 
remember
 
to
 
bow,
 
and
 
as
 
I
 
do
 
the
 
feeling
 
that
 
I
 
am
 
holding
 
things
 
up
 
crosses
 
my
 
mind.
 
I
 
bow
 
both
 
times,
 
for
 
Bread
 
and
 
Wine,
 
and
 
wonder
 
if 
 
it’s
 
overkill.
 
No
 
matter,
 
it’s
 
done
 
now,
 
and
 
I
 
make
 
my
 
way
 
back
 
to
 
my
 
seat.
 
The
 
Service
 
takes
 
only
 
45
 
mins,
 
and
 
that’s
 
with
 
the
 
Communion
 
children
 
and
 
handing
 
out
 
their
 
Bibles.
 
I
 
glance
 
at
 
my
 
watch.
 
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